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. The sight of the
plucky fighter made me realize I'd done nothing to help. But what
could I-a tired old man-do?
Tormented with indecision, I saw the kender disappear among
the rows of barrels. It wasn't like him to hide from something this
exciting. What was he up to? I wondered.
Suddenly, a blood-thirsty roaring filled my ears. Jerking my
head around, I saw a minotaur press past the warriors, bent for
Elistan and me. But the creature's face changed from delight to
surprise as he tripped and fell at my feet for no apparent reason.
From among the barrels I heard a childish giggle, and the reason
became clear. "Now!" shouted the kender, and I guess he was
talking to me, for suddenly I knew what to do.
First, I raised my staff and bashed the minotaur over the head
with it as hard as I could. Then I dashed over to the first row of
barrels and tugged on the rim of one of the heavy things until
whatever was inside sloshed, swaying the barrel ever so slightly.
"Elistan, help me!" I called to the cleric, who stood on the edge
of the battle, mumbling prayers. Seeing my intention, he drew his
hands from his cuffs and pulled on the rim of the barrel with me,
until, with a ground-jarring thump, the cask dropped onto its
rounded side on the floor. Wordlessly, we stepped back and ran at
the barrel full-tilt, sending it rolling like a loosened boulder at the
prone minotaur.
Groggy from his fall and my bashing, the creature looked up
just in time to see a spiraling wooden barrel about to smash into
the tips of his horns
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